


Invidious Intent

by Nuvakwahu



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27039076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuvakwahu/pseuds/Nuvakwahu
Summary: Set in 54 ABY, an aging Inquisitor, armed with an Imperial Fleet specialized in covert ops and rich in Force Sensitives he has found and recruited over the decades, he charts a new path for his small fleet delving into the criminal underworld that has flourished in the shadows of the Fel Empire and the New Republic.To those who read this story, I do encourage you to message me your criticisms and opinions of the story... be they good or bad (just keep it civil). I am using this story as a sort of practice run at writing before I push forward on an original novel that I am in the midst of writing. Even if you have little more to offer than thoughts on the characters or the plot as it unfolds.





	Invidious Intent

A grey haired human man stared at the viewscreen, an Asteroid Belt sat just beyond the wall of darkness that lay outside the transparisteel view port to the side of the room. The double blindness of the hibridium cloaking device limited its active combat applications... but the tethered holocams allowed them to retain function in the observational phases of an operation... so long as you could adequately disguise the camera poking out of the cloaking field.

A small clutch starfighter came in from the edge of the view screen... another security patrol no doubt. The tri-winged TIE would have been an odd sight back during the war... but it's been 50 years since the Imperial defeat over Endor. If anything, the clutch was antiquated by now... but even more-so was the Venator-class Star Destroyer the man resided in. It was the largest ship in his small fleet, a relic dating back to the Clone Wars, there was one other hidden among the asteroids out there, along with two Victory-II's and three Acclamators and a pair of Interdictor Cruisers. Imperial Navy officers would probably laugh at his dislike of the Imperial Class Star Destroyers, but they were simply too large for the operations he and his fleet were often assigned to... back during the Civil War.

Now, it was little more than a mercenary fleet... operating independently of the New Republic or Fel's Empire. The small ship sizes proved a blessing with the fall of the Empire, they were easy and cheap to maintain and operate, and most importantly... very easy to hide. It was well within the realm of possibility that the Republic and the false Empire still did not know of its existence. Only a handful in the Old Empire were ever aware.

He began to check off those who knew in his head. "Lumiya... dead, Esht'van... deceased, Kogo... probably dead. Isard Ysanne... reportedly dead, but it wouldn't surprise me if she came crawling out of the grave again." He reached up and straightened the collar of his maroon zeyd-cloth robe. Most of the Inquisitors banded together in their own little group, or went their own separate ways. The important thing was that they rejected the Fel Empire entirely. The few surviving Hands he had worked with also rejected the Fel Empire.

The one that sought to join it had been dealt with appropriately... though not necessarily discreetly. The inhabitants of that world probably could have sworn that an Imperial Fleet was trying to drill a hole through their planet, they focused the combined firepower of his entire fleet at an area measuring three square kilometers.

"Hey old man... you still alive by chance," came a dull thought. No... it wasn't a thought... well, it was a thought, but it wasn't his thought.

Like the Emperor, he had a talent for establishing telepathic communications between himself and other force sensitives. It was helpful in coordinating the operations of his meager fleet under com-silence... but it also helped him with responding to and working with the various Emperor's Hands and Inquisitors that may be near enough for him to aid. While it's been decades since he actively used it for operations with force adepts outside his fleet, they could still communicate with him telepathecally by tapping into the residual force connection between the two, so it wasn't uncommon for one or another to contact him for his counsel on a wide variety of matters.

Frequently it was for insight into an operation they had taken up as a solo mercenary when they've bitten off more than they could handle alone, or facing a situation completely foreign to them. Five times it was for advice on dating... the first one to ask him for help in that area hasn't spoken to him since, but the other four seemed to have turned out okay.

Most often though, they simply wanted someone to talk to... just to feel like they weren't alone in the galaxy. The Hands especially held strong affection for the Emperor... the illusion that they were "The" Hand made them feel as though he held them in particularly high regard. The years of Mara Jade and Lumiya's conflict with each other was particularly frustrating with each Hand he had previously worked with coming to him in anger over the Emperor's deceit... He often scrubbed whole operations because it would become too distracting for him to command his men effectively. It didn't surprise him at all when they failed to flock to the Emperor's side when he returned for a brief resurgence.

"Hey, Grumps... I know you haven't turned in your chips yet... talk to me," came the voice again

And then there was this girl... she was hardly eight seasons at the time of the Emperor's first demise. The only reason he had a telepathic link to her so early into her training was because he had overseen portions of the girl's training. But it seemed strange, he hadn't heard from her for decades. Why the sudden interest... some part of him was genuinely intrigued. He turned to the com panel on the arm of his chair and spoke into it, "Si'Yanvo... I'll be giving you charge of this operation for now."

A grizzled man's voice broke over the comlink, "Is Counselor Ren'Vhan in then?"

"Afraid so... before you ask if it can wait... it's her again," replied the inquisitor in irritation.

"Really? It must be fourty years since you last heard from her… Well... understood, I'll have Kreia relay the circumstances to the rest of the fleet then,” came the other man's reply.

With the efficient operation of his fleet guranteed, he focused his thoughts on the Hand who was trying to communicate with him. He sensed the various strands linking him to Hands and Inquisitors across the Galaxy. He searched out which ever one felt... warm? They give off a cold and dark sensation when disused for a month... so it felt only appropriate to call the opposite sensation "warm", funny as it sounded as he thought on it. The connections within his fleet were much closer to a "Hot" feeling when he searched them out, due to proximity and frequency of use. He sorted through these more active links until he found one that felt like it stretched to someplace distant, and then focused on it, bringing it to the fore of his mind.

"Hey, don't keep a girl waiting, there's something important I want to talk to you about," came the persistent ringing in his head.

"I'm here... and I'm kind of in the middle of something important right now... what is it," he grunted in thought.

"Do you still have that neat stealth fleet of yours..."

"Yes, but if I can't succeed in my current job properly, it won't be much of a 'stealth' fleet for long. Waiting on a shipment of the crystals my fleet uses to maintain the cloaking fields," he answered bluntly. While he still had stores of Hibridium enough to continue uninterrupted operation of his cloaking fields for weeks, he was nonetheless uncomfortable with the prospect of having to carefully ration their use. So he chose to secure shipment of Hibridium from a new deposit the Hutts discovered and intended to trade to the Fel Empire with. He much preferred establishing new supplies well in advance rather than gambling on a successful raiding operation with mere days or weeks of operational supplies remaining.

"Do your ships still have the same crew?" she mused aloud in his head.

"Not entirely, only about a tenth of it is still comprised of Academy Graduates... the rest I've had to... why are we talking about this. What in Chaos do you want with me girl?"

He could feel her thinking, trying to get back to her original train of thought. Dear lord, how did she ever originally catch the attention of the Emperor all those years ago. "Ah... yes.... I have a business proposition for you."

On the Viewscreen he could see a ship rising up from the surface of the planet below, slowly coming into focus. A YT-1250 with what scans indicated to be anti-rad hull plating... someone who preferred dangerous or easily detected cargo no doubt.

"Target located and alligning for hyperspace jump. All the vessels are alligning for intercept jump," came the captain's voice over the ship's general coms. "All Hands prepare for intercept and capture procedures." The Viewscreen's picture shifted as the ship moved, first turning, then accelerating to exit the asteroid belt they had been hiding in.

"I imagine you and your little fleet are currently little more than a band of space pirates now, aren't you," came the voice again. "Raiding for supplies and credits."

"Mostly we do mercenary work... usually through operations on the ground for big names of the underworld," he retorted. "Most of our clients are only aware of our Acclamators... I just haven't the means to get away with operating my Kiloplus Capitals like Leonia Tavira apparently did."

"Want to know how she did it?" teased the voice at the other end of the connection.

Even though none were around to see it, he raised his eyebrows in intrigue. "You have my attention... but be quick about it girl."

"Go to the old entrance of the Byss run, I'll send you coordinates there for you to go to. You'll be able to speak with the woman herself at the final destination."

"Couldn't make it simple could you... well, I guess I'll be seeing you eventually Leshran, but now if I can have your leave, there is an urgent matter I must attend to."

He turned his attention back to the view screen as it first became clear of asteroids, and then went blank all together as the tethered holocams were all recalled back into the cloaking field, and then into the ship itself, their return into their hull ports signaled by a dozen or so low metallic thumps.

He then heard a different voice in his head, this one was that of Kreia, his flagship's Helm Officer, and the only other one in his fleet with a knack for telepathy, as well as incredible situational-awareness through the force. She could guide the fleet with her senses as though the were using Stygium devices... Had she not been such an ace at the helm, he'd have given the woman her own ship to command. "All vessels, prepare to disengage cloakiing fields as per safety regulations and perpare for hyperspace jump on my mark. Unrelenting... course correction two degrees starboard. Umbra, elevate one degree, portside by three and one quarter degree.”

It was standard practice for fleets of ship to synchronize their hyperspace jumps through computers, but with com silence constantly in effect, his fleet had to do things very differently. And lord knows she was good at this. "All vessels prepare for hyperspace jump on my mark."

He went up to the captain's cabin view port and looked on with anticipation. He could hear the hyperdrives beginning to rev up... "Three..." came the beginning of the countdown. He could also hear the powering down of something else within the vessel, and faintly he could see the light of the planet they were leaving behind begin to shine throught the veil of the cloaking field, seeming ghostly at first, "Two..." the stars began to flick into being as the cloaking field near completely dissipated. "One..." and in that moment the stars stretched into eternity and the planet shrank If anyone saw anything, they'd think they'd seen a ghost ship appear from nowhere,and just as soon vanished. A well executed Decloak and Dash. They were able to stabilize the device and crystals enough that there was no risk of explosion when engaging the hyperdrive while the hibridium device was powered down, but they still couldn't risk tandem operation of the two systems.

"Admiral... the Hybridium Freighter will be forced into realspace by the gravity well of the Umbra's raw mass in about ten standard galactic minutes," came Kreia's voice, directed at him now. "Do you wish to handle the Ion Cannon Controls yourself for this?"

"Negative, I'll be waiting in the hangar though," he answered as he stood up from his chair.

"I'll take that as confirmation that you'll be wanting to take command of the boarding party then?"

"A vessel that size, I'd prefer to call it a welcoming committee. Not much there for our boys to board," he replied in thought. He could hear the woman chuckle a little before she shut down the telepathic link. He then made his way towards the door, glancing to the wall next to it. Mounted upon it were a collection of weapons he made use of frequently in his job... Long barreled blaster rifles, a Mandalorion weapons array wrist and it's supporting utility pack, a variety of slug throwers ranging from sniper rifles to small single shot weapons one could hide in the heel compartment of a dress set of shoes that was modified for carrying out assassinations. Nearest the door were his most iconic weapons, the ones his crew identified him by the most... a pair of long handles roughly half a meter in length. The casing formed from the Ultrachrome that he wore for protection against blasters and before that, lightsabers back when there were Jedi to hunt. Two short curves jutted out on either end of the shaft, seeming as a broken hand guard against blows that aimed for the center of the shaft, as well as other small protrusions set at the base of the two curved structures. He picked up one of the elaborate weapons and felt it's energies flow through him. He never really got to use them much to the full potential of its very specialized design... after their construction he only got the opportunity to take down five Jedi that had escaped the initial purge. He thought back on the New Republic that was forming, and Luke Skywalker's New Jedi Order. As much as he'd love to go at it with these new Jedi, he knew to actively seek them out would only bring the full weight of the Jedi Order bearing down upon him... likely with their Jensaarai allies in tow. Still, it made an impression on any 'guests' he might have over. He pressed a button on the panel next to the door, opening it before stepping out hastily. he didn't want to be late for anything.

\----------------------

It had been several minutes since he started to make his way to the hangar bays. He was alerted to the re-entry into realspace by the sudden absence of the light hum the hyperdrive made throughout the ship while it was operating. If their intel was correct on the target smuggler, they weren't able to upgrade their hyperdrive into something faster than he had equipped his little fleet. The ships he requested when he put together this little fleet were indeed obsolete... but they weren't by the time his techs were done refitting them. Experimental technology filled many of his ships, most notably the problematic cloaking devices. Everything else, built to very exacting specifications from schematics stolen from Corellia and Kuat, constructed from materials and resources obtained from raids or salvaged from various wrecks they routinely scavenged for raw materials they could refine into other products at their station of berth. The ships were old, but beneath the aging doonium armor were state of the art machines of war. He would be willing to put even his three Acclamators against a pair of factory fresh Imperial Class. Outrunning a typical smuggler ship in hyperspace was simple.

But precise placement of vessels to force a smuggler out of hyperspace before an Interdictor can bring its Gravity Well Generator's online after a jump required something more. Split among his nine vessels were thirty-two-thousand hands. Approximately five-hundred of them, mixed in among his commando troops, gunners, pilots and the command structure of his various ships were force sensitives he had recruited... originally it had been for the purpose of nurturing their talents for later evaluation to further their training as a Prophet, a Hand, or as a fellow Inquisitor... but since Endor, he's used them to further improve the efficiency of his fleet and ground forces during operations. And part of that efficiency was to precisely position his ships to intercept vessels in Hyperspace without needing to charge up the Gravity Well Generators.

Through the structure of the ship, he could hear the low screams of the Ion Cannons as they surely fired upon the smuggler they had targeted. That he only heard the one set of shots was a clear indication that either the operation already failed and the YT-1250 made an emergency blind jump to escape, or more likely that it had succeeded spectacularly. He stopped a moment, shutting his eyes and focusing his thoughts on the various connections between himself and the force sensitives within his fleet, He could feel the warmth of celebration reverberating among them, as Keira's voice came in through the speakers throughout the ship, "Target has been immobilized, target with tractor beams and bring the Smuggler to the Rejoice's Hangar 2. Troops are to stand-by... but do not knock on the door, Admiral Ren'Vhan would like to welcome the new guests personally."

There's a clear sign of this ship's age... it has a positive sounding name. No attempt at intimidation, it had been built to represent hope. It also was built back when sound military strategy took precedence over the foolish Tarkin Doctrine and obsession with intimidation through brute force. While certainly the existence of the Hands as well as the Inquisitor's represented a more subtle approach, a decisive military victory was all that was needed at Endor to end the Rebellion, but the Emperor wasted the most perfectly executed trap in the history of Galactic Warfare to demonstrate his ability to destroy them at his leisure. "And look where that got him," he thought sarcastically to himself.

Loud bangs reverberated throughout the ship as he continued on his way trough the narrow corridors. The Dorsal Bay Doors were sliding open as the YT-1250 was being drawn in. Down the long corridor he could see on the left side the series of doors that led into the starboard-side hangars. As he reached for the panel, he considered for a moment bringing up his maroon hood, to give him that extra element of intimidation for whoever may be inside the vessel they had found. But just as quickly as he had thought it, he dismissed it by repeating to himself, "and look where that got him."

He pressed a green button on the panel and the door rapidly slid open to reveal his quarry as it hovered into the hangar bay through the atmospheric forcefield separating the hangar from the launch strip. His troopers filed in, most donning only the chest armor plate of their dated stormtrooper armor. Throughout the entire history of his little fleet, he never had his men deployed in full Imperial regalia, they were the fleet kept off the books, the rest of the Galaxy were to only think of them as a rogue militia or a pirate group even when they did deploy en masse.

Even their weapons were varied, and often dated. Though nonetheless they were well maintained to ensure they would function. Weapons that were notorious for their lack of reliability were often tirelessly modified until they could be counted upon in a firefight. Anything they did was not to be traceable back to the Emperor or the Empire by any means.

He watched as a pair of engineers made their way to the freighter's cockpit nacelle with demolition charges, from here he could see that the crew had evacuated the cockpit, likely taking up defensive positions nearer the cargo hold so they could watch all the entry points.

The tractor beam set the smuggling vessel down onto the ground, the ionization prevented the deployment of landing gear. He gestured a hand towards the engineers, they nodded in affirmation and backed off after setting only the one charge on a portion of the transparisteel viewports the crew operated the vessel through. A few beeps later and the device shattered the one pane of the clear material, but leaving the doonium frame around it undamaged.

He stepped closer to the cockpit as he sensed the people inside as they repositioned, obviously reacting to the sound of the explosion near the cockpit. Reaching out with the force, he sought out the mental signatures of those inside... he couldn't communicate with them this way, but he could nonetheless count and locate them. Six... no... seven hands on board. Intelligence on the ship indicated a crew of six... who was this seventh.

Still, he had a job to take care of. He shouted out in a booming voice, "To the captain of the Violet Ray, if I may speak, I wish to propose a mutually beneficial business arrangement."

He waited a moment in silence, sensing that they had heard him, but were uncertain what to do. He stepped in a little closer, and shouted again, "Let me explain your present circumstances then, if it will make it easier for you to come out and talk." The motors roared above them as the hangar doors began to shut over the launch strip, "You are presently in the hangar of a Venator-Class Star Destroyer, even if you got your ship operational, and the atmospheric shielding activated over the breach of your cockpit... you haven't the firepower to blast your way out of the hangar." With one loud crash as if to emphasise his point, the hangar doors finished shutting and the motors that opened and closed it fell silent. "There is no escaping now, so it would do you well to take me up on a second option."

"Whose to say you aren't trying to draw us into the open so you can blast us a safe ways from our cargo," came the captain's angry reply.

A reasonable assumption, and he has heard it many times before. But it truly wasn't his intent. Ren'Vhan reached out with his senses, feeling the uncertainty among the crew. "Well then, perhaps I can explain our interest in your cargo... we make significant use of it and could always use a reliable supply of hibridium. We have as much interest in keeping you intact as we do your cargo. If you come out and..."

"A likely story," retorted the captain.

"Oh how I hated being interrupted, especially by a trapped man hiding behind a shell of false bravado," thought the Admiral angrily. "Your situation is hopeless, if you make things easy for me, you may yet walk away from this alive, and dare I say make a profit from this."

"Argunah would have my head for this," he shouted aloud. "And if Han could escape the Death Star, I could certainly escape an outdated Star Destroyer."

Okay... a demonstration is in order, "I can read your every thought," Ren'Vhan proclaimed boastfully. He reached out to the mind of the captain, probing it for information, any plans he could be formulating. His thoughts were well guarded, but his crew's were not. He motioned to his engineers, as he shouted aloud, wanting the smuggler's to hear every word of it. "Weld the Engine exhaust ports to the hull to prevent powerplant jettison and plug up the torpedo tube beneath the forward airlock."

The captain was now cursing under his breath no doubt. He could sense the frustration as his plans fell flat before any of his crew could move on them. He immediately went to formulating a new plan, the Admiral could counter them in turn, so he turned his focus on the rest of the crew. The co-pilot was a Rodian female who seemed only too eager to mix things up with the suspected pirates, the Navigator and the Coms officer were young human males who were thinking back to family and lovers left over the galaxy and their regrets that they'd never see them again. The engineer was only too eager to leave at a moments notice and was formulating a plan to escape the ship and surrender.

The sixth member was interesting, she was a hired mandalorian who was frustrated about not being paid enough to take on an obviously well coordinated fleet and its compliment of troops. As well as pondering the identity of the Admiral... was he a Jedi, or a fallen jedi, or one of their mysterious armored allies. Maybe the Fel Empire had betrayed the deal and sought to take the rare crystals through force rather than as part of a trade agreement.

And then the seventh... oh... Things just got interesting. Her thoughts weren't on the situation at hand, but nonetheless could prove the most useful to him if the captain continues to be defiant.

A squad commander stepped up next to the Admiral, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "We could blast the forward air locks open and take them out in a minute, Sir."

"That won't be necessary," he assured the commander. "We have a golden opportunity here to secure a reliable source of hibridium." He then thought back to the seventh person aboard the vessel, "I think I have a solution for our present quandary."

"How do you intend to manage that, sir."

Ren'Vhan looked up towards the cockpit of the freighter again, then spoke instructively to the commander next to him. "Sometimes, in diplomacy it isn't about saying what a person wants to hear, but saying what someone else doesn't want to hear. Stand back and take notes."

The soldier nodded and then stepped back as engineers positioned themselves to the for and aft of the disabled freighter to carry out the previous orders. Sparks illuminated the hangar as the Admiral once again turned his focus back towards the smuggler captain.

He was now busy ordering them to move containers from the cargo hold to provide more sufficient cover against armed entry through the cockpit corridor and had his engineer hard at work trying to get the power back online. "Very good," he called out to the ship, "using the armored crates to provide cover... Gambling we won't fire on the cargo that we desire. Sound strategy indeed." He then gestures to the engineer who was finishing his weld on the plug for the torpedo tube beneath the forward airlock. The man nodded and then took his torch to the airlock itself.

Ren'Vhan reaches out to the minds of those inside once again, the captain was beginning to panic as he scrambled for the rocket launcher

in the ship's armory as the Rodian rearranged the crates accordingly. "Reactivate tractor beams, list the vessel to starboard," shouted the Admiral with urgency.

Immediately the tractor beam projector above hummed to life and the freighter's port side lifted into the air. He could sense the crew scrambling to grab something to stabilize themselves with. The captain however could not find anything to grab onto and he could be sensed tumbling away from the weapon's locker.

The frustrations were boiling over with the crew inside, but so to was Ren'Vhan's patience. Calling out mockingly to the crew's captain, "have you had enough yet, or are you hungry for more abuse in there."

"You can just go kiss a Hutt," came the captain's shout through the small hole that had been hastily cut through the airlock door.

Ren'Vhan exhaled deeply as he thought to himself, "I've grown weary of this exchange."

Stepping closer, he now called in angry retort, "I could, but only after you stop giving the Rodian the same when you are off together on your routes."

He could sense the captain's confusion, "what are you even talking about?"

More importantly, someone else's anger was growing. It has been brewing for some time now, it just needs a little more. "Your wife is just as capable, why else would you have cut her out of your crew for so long, and do explain why you put her up front guarding the the cockpit corridor..."

He paused a moment to feign a moment of thought, the continued as though he had broken the captain's plan, "I see, so you intended she'd die, then surrender the cargo so you could run off with her assets and live comfortably with..."

The sudden scream of a blaster echoed through the ship, followed by the shouts of the Rodian before a pair of shots abruptly silenced her. He could no longer feel the presence of the ship's captain either. He could sense the unease from the communication's officer and navigator. The Malndalorian seemed amused by the Admiral's ability to turn the crew against each other and pondered on whether or not the accusations had any merit. Her suspicions were true of course and the Admiral made a note to speak with the astute mercenary after everything was settled if he had the chance. The engineer meanwhile was struck with urgency thinking the ship had been boarded and fought to get the generators back online. The seventh passenger, now the captain's widow now waited patiently for the power to come back.

The aging man then looked back at the squad commander whom was confused, "don't look at me, I haven't ordered an infiltration mission yet."

"You needn't worry commander," Ren'Vhan assured him. "I just have a deeper appreciation for the wisdom of leaving one's wife at port on these tours."

He then sensed excitement coming from the mind of the engineer. The ship hummed as its systems came back online. The old inquisitor stepped nearer the forward airlock as locking mechanisms around it disengaged. The men behind him raised their blasters to take aim as Ren'Vhan brandished his own weapon, holding it out but unignited... More a signal to his men to lower their weapons than any intimidation tactic for the crew aboard the captured vessel.

The motors hummed as the door slid to the side, revealing a woman in typical Corellian garb, a plain shirt and a dark green vest with a pair of dark pants as she held her blaster proudly and boldly. "I'm the captain of the Violet Ray effective immediately," she proclaimed commandingly to the Admiral.

He went over the woman's mind briefly to check for any plan to turn the situation around. When he was satisfied that she presently had no immediate ill intention, he raised the ultrachrome shaft to the air briefly, and then lowered it and hooked it to his belt. The men behind him lowered their weapons and took more relaxed stances. "We'll then, if you are of reasonable mind, allow me to escort you to my quarters so we may discuss an arrangement regarding the cargo you have in your hold that can satisfy all parties... still involved."

He then gestures to his engineers, "get things patched up, I want it looking like it did when we got it.". The. Tapping his wrist com, he called to the bridge, "Kreia, continue on course to the Imperial space, so we can drop the smugglers off and still have them be on time for their shipment."

He could sense the confusion on the helmsman's mind, but the woman stepping down from the YT-1250 seemed to be onto his little scheme, "so you really weren't lying about being as interested in an intact crew as you were our cargo."

He smiled, of course a cover story would have to be cooked up to explain the loss of two hands, but he felt this woman was someone he could work with. "Indeed, the quantity you have in your hold is but a pittance," he admitted. "I have greater interest in a stable supply obtained by means that leaves the Republic and the Imperials none-the-wiser."

The hangar door slid open as the two entered the hall as the engineers got to work repairing the vessel, with only the freighter's own engineer confused with what occured. He then sent a mental message to Kreia, "Have someone prepare my personal transport and instruct the fleet to return to port after we drop the smugglers off."

"Sir, do you intend to depart into Fel space sir," came the woman's confused response.

He let out a sigh, "yes, meeting up with an old acquaintance who might have some useful information for me... I'd rather not risk the fleet as she's with a very clever woman who happens to own an Imperial Deuce and has made it a habit of shooting men in the back."


End file.
